Chapter 58

Ryan descended the stairs with steady steps, unhurried, his hands in the pockets of his casual robe.

When he reached the dining room, the scene unfolded with quiet composure: his mother sat gracefully in a chair, a cup of tea in hand; his uncle Joseph lounged casually at the far end; and in the central seat, a formal-looking man with a tense expression was slowly sipping the tea he had been served.

He wasn’t an imposing man.

Average height, a neatly trimmed mustache, deep eye-bags suggesting too many hours spent under candlelight, and hair slicked back with almost military rigidity that couldn’t quite hide a thinning crown. A few gray strands adorned his temples, dignified rather than sad. His gray robe had dark-blue trim, and on his chest gleamed a golden Ministry pin bearing the symbol of the Wizengamot.

“Mr. Morrigan,” Ryan greeted clearly, extending his hand. “A pleasure.”

The man rose with measured slowness, returned the handshake firmly, and nodded.

“Ryan Ollivander… I must admit, I was expecting someone older. It’s hard to imagine these rapid-reading glasses came from a fifteen-year-old. But the invention record does have your name on it,” he said, a hint of genuine surprise creeping into his otherwise neutral, professional tone. “Congratulations. Not many your age achieve something both useful, legal, and functional.”

“Thank you,” Ryan replied with a half-smile, free of false modesty. “My grandfather taught me early on that I couldn’t just be some good-for-nothing living off the family fortune.”

Joseph laughed behind his teacup. Iris smiled, not hiding her pride.

“And of course, it’s always a pleasure to host a man from the Ministry,” Ryan added with an easy grin. “Though I must admit, I didn’t expect to see Mr. Morrigan himself in person. Are you here on behalf of your office?”

Morrigan gave a small, tired but cordial nod.

“Correct. I work in the Wizengamot Administrative Service, Department of Magical Security. Recently, one of our officials, a friend of your family, I understand, brought his pair of rapid-reading glasses to work… and the results were undeniable. His efficiency improved remarkably. They don’t enhance comprehension, of course, but the speed with which we process documents increased. And believe me, Mr. Ollivander… in my office, that’s worth gold.”

“I can imagine,” Ryan said, taking a seat across from him. “Legal documents, summonses, trial records, Wizengamot rulings… tons of repetitive reading. The glasses are perfect for that.”

Morrigan nodded, somewhere between respect and weary admiration.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here. We’d like to purchase several units, a small batch at first, to test their impact on the department’s workflow. If the results are positive, we could submit a proposal for a larger institutional acquisition.”

“Oh… a larger institutional acquisition, I like the sound of that,” Ryan said as he calmly poured himself some tea. “How many to start with? And I assume you’re speaking on behalf of the Ministry, correct?”

Morrigan nodded. “Yes, it’s a Ministry purchase, not a personal one. Six units to begin with, key personnel only: myself, two archivists, a legal reviewer, and two section heads. But if the improvement is noticeable… the entire Department of Magical Security could benefit. That’s dozens, maybe over a hundred pairs.”

A broader smile spread across Ryan’s face.

But Morrigan didn’t take it as the grin of a fifteen-year-old thrilled by the sudden demand for his invention. No. It was the poised, sharp smile of a young merchant who had just heard music to his finances.

“To be honest with you, Mr. Morrigan,” Ryan began, setting his cup gently back on the saucer, “I’m an inventor, a lone one. No assistants, no apprentices, no outside workshop. I craft everything by hand. So a large-scale order… would be difficult to fulfill within a reasonable timeframe, at least for now.”

Morrigan seemed to nod silently, understanding.

“But today we’re talking about six units,” Ryan continued. “That’s manageable. Though, as it happens, I’m heading back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Winter break’s over, and between classes, homework, and unjust detentions, my time will be more limited. My mother doesn’t allow me to devote myself entirely to crafting my inventions.”

Iris nodded from her seat, the calm of a mother who went along with her son’s act so he could close a good deal.

“But you’re in luck,” Ryan added. “I made a few during the holidays, four, to be exact. They’re ready, tested, and sealed.”

“And the other two?”

“I’ll have to make them while I’m at school. It’ll take a few days. With luck and discipline, you’ll have them in five days.”

“The price?” Morrigan asked, already pulling a quill from his inner pocket.

“The last pairs I sold, to Gryffindor classmates, by the way, went for seventy Galleons each,” Ryan replied in an even tone. “But considering we’re talking about an official Ministry purchase, with all that entails… the four I have in stock, I’ll let go for eighty Galleons apiece.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, as though expecting a higher markup.

“The other two, which I’ll have to craft from scratch with the limited time I’ll have, will be ninety Galleons each. And you’ll have them in five days, not a day more.”

Silence for a moment. Then Morrigan nodded.

“Eighty for the four ready ones. Ninety for the two you’ll create. Total: five hundred Galleons. I’ll submit the requisition to the Ministry’s funding office tomorrow. Will you accept payment in two parts?”

“I will,” said Ryan, shaking his hand. “But if a larger order is approved… we’ll need to discuss timelines, scale, and adjustments. This isn’t a factory.”

“I understand perfectly,” Morrigan replied. “If I can expedite the process, I’ll return tomorrow with the first payment for the four pairs, three hundred twenty Galleons. Then we’ll arrange the delivery of the remaining two and the final payment.”

“Perfect,” Ryan nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“A pleasure doing business, Mr. Morrigan,” Ryan said with a half-smile. “And I assure you, once you try the glasses… you’ll understand why they’re worth every Galleon.”

Morrigan allowed himself what, in another context, might have been a professional smile.

“I hope so, Ollivander.”

He walked toward the fireplace, pulled a small pouch of Floo powder from his robe, and tossed a handful into the flames. The fire flared emerald green.

“Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Administrative Services,” he said clearly before vanishing in the light.

The flames died down, and the dining room returned to calm.

“Tch. I could’ve asked for more per unit,” Ryan muttered just loud enough for Iris and Joseph to hear.

His mother raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with elegant theatrics.

“Who would’ve thought I’d raise a greedy little businessman,” she remarked in her trademark tone of affectionate sarcasm. “Still… nicely played.”

Joseph, on the other hand, let out a rough laugh from behind his teacup.

“Ryan… do you realize that five hundred Galleons is what a Hogwarts professor earns in a month? Or an Auror. And you just made that in half an hour, with four pairs you already had ready, while still being a student.”

“And if they actually approve an institutional purchase…” Joseph went on, raising a finger, “let’s say they order a hundred units. And agree to pay a hundred Galleons each.”

Ryan, already pouring himself more tea, didn’t need to calculate.

“Ten thousand Galleons,” he said, as casually as if commenting on the weather.

“Ten thousand Galleons, Ryan,” his uncle repeated, more emphatically. “That’s… an apartment in Diagon Alley, and you’d still have enough left to take your mother to The Enchanted Rose for dinner every night for a whole year.”

Iris smiled, pleased. “I like that future, especially the free meals part.”

“That said,” Joseph added with a crooked grin, “you’d better keep an eye on the contracts. You don’t want to end up like those inventors who sign something without reading it and spend the rest of their lives slaving over deadlines till they’re ninety.”

“Relax, I always read the fine print,” Ryan said, standing up. He needed to get ready to visit the Prewetts’ house.

Iris stood up too and walked over to him, placing her hands on his cheeks with that mix of tenderness and drama only a mother could pull off.

“I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown,” she said, half proud, half theatrical. “You’re taller than me now, and you’re making more money than I earned in my first three years as a substitute teacher, while raising you at the same time. It feels like just yesterday you were a little boy who needed help just to blow his nose.”

“I didn’t realize I was that useless as a kid,” Ryan said with a grin, looking at her fondly. “Besides, all the money I make is for you too. Whenever you want dinner at The Enchanted Rose, just say the word. And any invention I make will always be free for you.”

Iris gave an exaggerated sigh, as if melting. “Oh, my dear boy, I’m so proud. Now I just need you to find a decent girlfriend who could become your future wife, give me grandchildren, and I can die in peace.”

Ryan arched an amused eyebrow. “I’m not that old to be having kids, and you’re not that old to be a grandmother. Although… who knows, maybe tonight the opportunity will arise for me to give you those grandkids.”

He was heading to a magical teenage party. His friends Gideon and Fabian had told him they’d invited plenty of people from their year. There would be lots of girls, who knows, maybe he’d get lucky and unwind a bit after so long.

Iris narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and put on an expression of theatrical horror.

“Ryan Ignatius Ollivander!” she exclaimed, watching him as he walked toward the stairs. “I don’t want grandchildren from some random girl who can’t even cast a Protego! Don’t you dare bring me a one-night mistake as a firstborn!”

She gave him a light push on the back as he passed by, as if shooing away mischief.

Ryan didn’t flinch. He just turned his head slightly and, with a teasing tone, replied,

“Relax, I’ll use protection. I’m not ready to pay child support yet… I already spend enough on materials for my inventions.”

Joseph burst into such sudden laughter that he nearly choked on his tea, coughing as he covered his mouth with a napkin.

“Merlin, this boy…!” he managed between laughs, shaking his head.

Ryan disappeared upstairs to change. Ten minutes later, he came back down dressed in his most modern robe, dark blue with metallic trim, and a fine black coat that would keep him warm, striking a balance between elegance and practicality. His wand was secured to the inner belt.